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right nice house too, it looks like." He paused again, then
asked, "Were you raised here?"

"Yes," Mr. Munn said.

" The crummy bastards," the lieutenant exclaimed, " burn-
ing a man's house down."

" I reckon so," Mr. Munn remarked.

"I'm sorry we didn't get here in time to do any good."

" Thanks," Mr. Munn replied,

"We got to be pulling out," the lieutenant observed.
" Good-bye," he said, and offered his hand. Mr. Munn shook
hands with him. He hadn't noticed the fellow's face before.
It struck him as vaguely familiar. " Good-bye," he answered.

"I know how you feel," the lieutenant said. "You must
feel tough."

The cavalrymen mounted and rode off across the meadow.
Mr. Munn watched them go. No, he decided, the lieutenant
was wrong. He didn't feel tough. That was not it. There
was no word to name it with, exactly.

He went down to Old Mac's cabin, and sat on the chunk of
limestone that was the step, while Mac's wife cooked him
some breakfast. After a while she called him in and gave
him three eggs fried up with some side meat, and some hoe-
cake and coffee. He ate with a good enough appetite. While
he ate he remembered how the young lieutenant had re-
minded him of somebody. He turned that over in his mind.
Then he had the answer. The fellow reminded him a little
of the way Benton Todd had looked. That was it.

When he got through eating, he rode on back to town.
There was nothing else he could do out at his place, and, be-
sides, he had the case coming up. When he got to his office
the girl there said for him to call the Christian place right
away, that they had been calling for him all morning. He
reckoned that Mr. Christian wanted to get the news about the
burning. He had trouble getting on the line, and when he
did get on he had to wait a long time before the negro cook
out there called somebody to the telephone. Lucille Christian
came, Her father, she said when she finally came to the tele-